


The Right Time

by orphan_account



Series: Making Do [6]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: AU, Episode: s03e03 Murder and Mozzarella, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One year after committing to one another, Phryne asks Jack why he finally made his decision. The conversation doesn't go the way she expected.





	1. The Wrong Time?

**Author's Note:**

> I have a group of stories based on the AU timeline that they got together the night Jack brings over the bottle of wine from Stranos. I've found it more interesting to write about the way they interpret that night, and all that follows from it, than to write the night itself. This is another little story in that vein. 
> 
> It's also a bit of an experiment to see just how much story tension I can wring out of a subtle emotional conflict.

“You never told me why,” Phryne whispered. 

Dawn light broke through their bedroom window as Jack and Phryne lay in one another’s arms, content from a morning round of lovemaking. They had marked their one-year anniversary the night before, privately, quietly, at home – as intimately as the original event they were marking had been. 

“Why what, love,” Jack responded, eyes still closed. 

“Why that night was the night.” 

And he hadn’t told her, explicitly, although the wine bottle from Stranos was a clue that even a less accomplished detective could have interpreted with some precision. Hadn’t told her about Concetta’s near-proposal, how seriously he took the offer, what he might have done if Concetta hadn’t ultimately read the situation more accurately than he had been prepared to do at the time. He wasn’t sure why. 

“Has it bothered you all this time?” His tone was warm, genuine. It contained no accusation, only curiosity. 

“It doesn’t bother me now, darling. I was only thinking.” 

She turned into him. A smile, a kiss, and she had moved on. But now Jack’s mind was engaged on the topic. He sat up, a little roughly, jostling her just a bit with the shift in position. 

“You didn’t seem to need to know. I mean, you didn’t ask.” 

“Jack, I was just thrilled that you had made the decision, that we made the decision. Together. That night. And all the nights since.” 

With the last phrase, her voice turned low and seductive and she kissed him passionately, hoping to recapture the earlier moment she had inadvertently ended with the question. 

He wanted nothing more than to sink into the kiss, to turn off his thoughts and simply act, once again, to show her the fullness of his love for her, but… 

“I don’t want you to think that I wouldn’t have made the decision without Concetta’s prompting.” 

That stopped the kissing. 

Phryne sat up. “Why would I think that, Jack?” her voice pitched up in that artificially high range she used to cover doubt, with enough edge to show the tone was intentional. 

“Because of the conversation Concetta and I had that night, before I came here to you,” he said, a little sheepishly. 

“A conversation I knew nothing about.” 

“Yes.” 

“Therefore, I couldn’t possibly have used it to draw unfair conclusions about your motivations that evening.” Phryne was out of bed now, searching a pile of clothes on the chaise for her favorite silk robe. 

“Yes, I suppose, I…. Phryne…” 

“You should get dressed, darling. It’s getting late. I’m going to have a bath. I have a meeting at the art museum this morning.” 

And with that he was dismissed. 

Jack watched her cross the room, enter the bathroom, and shut the door soundly. He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, or what he was supposed to do in response. 


	2. The Right Time

It was Jack’s least favorite kind of mystery. 

All the facts of the case led in one direction, and the motive, on its surface, was simple. And yet, under deeper investigation, the motive became murkier. Jack had been on the other side of an interrogation often enough to see a man make the same sort of mistake, out of some strange compulsion to clarify details of a question that hadn’t truly been asked. 

Jack couldn’t even find the working of his own mind on the topic truly interesting. The right answer to Phryne’s question had been simple. Why that night, and not others? Because he loved her and didn’t want to waste any more time. Why, then, did it bother him so much to think that in what? – five-of-a hundred-coin-flips? more? – the evening with Concetta could have transpired differently, that he might not have given her a firm no if she had not kissed him first and said those fateful words. 

And yet Jack found himself pulling his police car into an open parking space outside Abruzzi’s Italian market. He knew Concetta worked at the lunch counter. He was here because he had a yearning for lasagna, he told himself. It wasn’t even an interesting lie. “Jack!” Concetta exclaimed. “You never come here for lunch. It’s good to see you!” 

“It’s good to see you too,” he answered, greeting her with a friendly kiss on the cheek as she handed him a menu. 

Heads turned in response, including the one that belonged to the proprietor, Concetta’s new boss. “Veal parmesano special today,” she continued, getting down to business, “or eggplant, if you prefer. I’ll be right back.” 

Abruzzi’s did a brisk lunch business, and Concetta was the only server working the counter and preparing take-out orders. Consequently, their conversation happened in rushed snippets – “Miss Fisher is well?” and “Yes, it’s good to stay busy” and “Ah, so many say they miss Stranos, but it all turns out for the best, yes?” Jack lingered over his pasta, angling for the right moment before it was time to return to the station. When it didn’t arrive, he left a too-large tip on the counter, paid his check, and exited silently. 

Luckily for Jack, Concetta followed. 

“Gianni,” she called as he reached his car. “I take ten minutes for my break. Something is wrong, yes?” 

Jack searched her eyes and saw only kindness and concern for his well-being. 

“I’m sorry,” he answered. “I’m being foolish. Chasing ghosts.” 

“We are friends, Jack. Ask me what you came here to ask.” 

She was as practical as Phryne when it came right down to it. Jack breathed in relief. 

“That night,” he began, “A year ago. What would have happened if I had accepted?” 

“If I had let you accept my proposal?” 

“Yes.” 

“We might have had a happy day or two. Then you would have told her. And she would have wished you well. And it would have broken your heart.” 

Jack closed his eyes as she spoke, imagining everything she said. 

“Yes,” he answered simply. 

“Is there more you’d like to know?” she asked. 

“No,” he said, a small smile returning to his face. “The rest wouldn’t make much sense, I’m afraid. It’s a self-inflicted wound.” 

“All love is precious, Gianni. I will tell you that as often as you come to me with questions, as I told you that night. Tell her you love her, and nothing else matters.”

Jack smiled widely for her benefit, kissed her again on the cheek, and climbed into his car. 

There was a part of him that believed it was that simple. But the romantic Jack still warred with Jack-the-realist, Jack-the-experienced -– the Jack that knew that even the simplest and most pure of loves couldn’t always withstand the buffeting winds. 

* * *

“Jack, is that you darling?” Phryne was in the parlor, bare feet up on the chaise. He entered the main hall and hung up his coat and jacket. “Are you hungry? Mr. Butler can heat something up.” 

“Maybe later,” he answered, entering quietly, taking a seat opposite hers. 

She took his hand and held his gaze. “I’m sorry for this morning, Jack. I left too abruptly. It wasn’t generous. It wasn’t fair.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “I’d like to tell you what happened that night, with Concetta.” 

“You don’t have to, Jack,” she said, a little too quickly. “You’re entitled to your own thoughts, your own privacy…” 

“Phryne,” he started. 

She kept talking. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” 

He kissed her, once, gently, on the lips, to get her full attention. “I love you. And I do owe you an explanation.” 

Phryne let out a breath she’d been holding all day. She smiled, in that moment warm, vulnerable, and looking at him as if he were the only man on earth who mattered to her at all. In that moment, he was. 

“I went to see Concetta that night,” he began. “You know that. You know I came from Stranos, with the wine.” 

“I do,” she said simply. 

“Earlier, Concetta asked me, well, to be honest, she asked me if I would marry her." He blushed at the memory. Phryne took his hand. "She said she was willing to give up everything for me, her family, her religion, anything I asked.” 

“An extraordinary offer,” Phryne said. 

“Yes.” 

“She would have made you happy.” 

“No,” Jack said firmly. “I won’t have you think that, Phryne. Even for a moment.” 

“Jack….” she said, drawing his name out so that it stretched the length of multiple syllables. It was a gentle chiding, reminding him, once again, that she always preferred honesty. 

“I want to tell you that I told her no right away. That I declared my love for you. That I didn’t consider her.” 

“But you did consider it, darling. Of course you did. I have no doubt she was utterly sincere in her love for you.” 

“There’s more,” Jack said. “Before I could answer, she asked for a kiss, as a test. And she knew, from my kiss, that I didn’t love her. She said my heart was taken, and she wanted to marry for love.” 

“And you didn’t want your heart to be taken,” Phryne said gently. 

“No, that's not what I mean.” he responded. “There was a time it was true. An earlier time. A time when I thought my heart had run leaps and bounds ahead of me and I had no choice in the matter.” Jack’s smile grew boyish and joyful. Phryne laughed and matched his smile effortlessly. 

“But by that night, I knew I loved you,” he said. “I wanted to love you. I chose to love you. But I still didn’t know how…” he gestured between them, to their position together on the chaise, and their joined hands. “I didn’t know how we were going to do this.” 

“I didn’t know either, Jack. Some days I still don’t know.” 

He stopped her with a kiss, this time deeper, and full of longing. 

“Concetta made me leap,” he said after a moment. “I can’t say for certain that I would have, without her.” 

“Then I owe her a great deal of thanks,” Phryne said, her voice deep and full. She pulled close and kissed him soundly. After a moment, she pulled back. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?” 

“It seemed all too haphazard,” he started, honest but rueful. “Too _accidental_ for something as important as what we are to each other.” 

“You are a romantic sometimes, Jack. And I love you. But we are a bit accidental, my darling. Truly.” She placed her hands on either side of his face and held his gaze. “We’re complicated people. Both of us. Not young. Not easy like Dot and Hugh.” 

“Thank God,” he answered with a laugh. He had no desire to be that young again. 

“What are the odds, Jack? Honestly? That we would have found each other, loved each other, chose each other. I don’t see that as a liability, darling. I see it as a miracle.” 

He pulled her close. He had no words that were adequate in the response. Only his kiss, and his touch, like that first night. 

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Phryne said, standing up and taking his hand. 

She stopped at the threshold, suddenly struck by one more truth. 

“It was the right time, Jack. That night. Concetta’s push or not. It was the right time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's very little romance in the original project I'm writing right now, so these two get it all ;-) Not that there's anything wrong with that....


End file.
